Stay?
by Anna-Belikov-Fuller
Summary: An OOC, vulnerable version of FAX. Enjoy!


**A.N.: I have this stuck in my head, but hopefully once it's out I'll be able to return to my other stories, which you should check out if you have time! Thanks. –Anna**

**Fang P.O.V.**

I'm walking down the hall in Anne's house toward Max's room. I hear her inside, breathing evenly. I don't know whether or not to wake her, but I finally decide to. I open the door and pad almost silently to Max's bed. I see her turning over, and whispering gently into her pillow, over and over again "Fang." Taken by surprise, I back up, and she smiles a pretty smile and relaxes a bit, repeating my name. The word is soft, only an exhalation of breath, really. It sounds as though her tongue is caressing the word, making my name sound like so much more than it really is. I wonder why she's murmuring my name, and also, how my name can sound so beautiful. I examine Max's face. In sleep, the lines of stress are gone leaving only the happy-glow of a seemingly normal fourteen year old.

I've been taking orders from Max since I was born, really. She's the oldest, so she's in charge. You'd think that would bother me, right? Taking orders from a girl? But it doesn't. It never has. Max's boldness, her bossiness, her willing, able-ness to lead, it's part of the reason I love her so much. I mean, sure, I've tried to get her to see that I love her as more than just a friend, but we're both so stubborn that nothing seems to work. I really, really love Max, she's part of me, like my other half. She's always completely understood me, she never tries to get me to talk, because she knows it won't work, and that there's a reason for the silence.

We all have our little quirks that are left over from being in the school. We're all paranoid, none of us trust anyone but each other. But aside from that, you see in the younger kids, and Iggy, how they want so badly to find their parents, they need the affection. Me and Max, though? We both act like we don't need anyone or anything most of the time. Well, except for each other. But most of the time, Max acts like it doesn't matter what I say or do, she just wants to be friends, which I know isn't true. It's only because I know Max, though. Her thing, like me, is pushing everyone away without really pushing. She tries to make herself into who she thinks she should be. She has this persona: the great leader, the dedicated friend, the mom. And she _is_ all of these things, it's a part she plays well, but the strictness of the persona limits her. She doesn't think she can be girly, or have any desires. And I know that being the first to make a move regarding me would make her feel girly and vulnerable, two things she hates. Something I hate, the vulnerable part at least.

For a while, it's been a competition between us, who can pretend not to like the other longest. But I'm done, because I've realized that once I say something, once I make it clear what I want, I've lost. But Max will do the same thing, and I'll have her, and it's worth it. I take a deep breath.

"Max. Max!" I say, shaking her slightly. "Max? Come on, Max." This is weird, she's usually easy to wake up, someone steps within three feet of her or moves or something, and she's upright and thinking about escape routes. Living at Anne's is making her soft. She looks up at me groggily, blinking a few times, and then rubs her eyes.

"Fang?" She cocks her head to one side and shifts her hair with her right hand. I love when she does that.

"Hey." I bite my lip for a second, and then I decide to really jump, really have faith in my feelings for Max. "Can we talk about some stuff? It's sort of important." She's more awake now, and she looks concerned.

"Sure, yeah, get in." She says, scooting over and pulling the blankets up so I can squish in next to her. I gulp. Being this close to Max scares me a little bit. Her heart beat flutters against the bed, and I can feel the vibrations. I swallow, and we shift a little so we can look at each other, but not be too close. She settles for sitting up, wrapped in the blankets like an Eskimo, looking at me expectantly. "So, Fang, what's up?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could talk about us. Ya know? You and me? Max and Fang?" She looks uneasy, and when she speaks a few moments later, her voice is breathy.

"What about us?"

"Well, I don't know how it is for you, but for me, I feel like we're in this everlasting cycle of liking each other, _really_ liking each other, and playing hard to get for no reason." She nods mutely for me to continue. "Like, I know that because of past experiences, we're both paranoid, and always afraid, and everything feels like something huge. So when it's actually huge, like admitting you love someone, it feels all-consuming. And I know that sometimes I'm really quiet, because I feel like the less you put out the less people have to use against you. And through the conditioning of fearing for my life, for my entire life, I sort of always thought that was a good thing. I also know that we're both absolutely terrified of getting hurt. When Jeb took us in, we put all our love and trust in him, and he ended up betraying us, in the end. " I look at her, but she just opens her mouth, and closes it again, and, afraid to lose my momentum, I continue on. "Max. I know you feel like you can't have any fun, because you have to protect the flock. And I know that everyone really is counting on you. I also know that most of the time you cover up your feelings with sarcasm, and you make it seem like what you want doesn't matter. But, it does matter, Max, it does. " I take a breath. Her eyes are the most beautiful brown, like melting chocolate. She looks down at me, arranging her thoughts before opening her perfect lips to speak.

"Fang, I think you're right. I think we all carry this fear with us, wherever we go, whatever we do. I think you're right about me though, especially. I feel like I can't have desires, because the Flock comes first, Fang. It always has. It always will." She looks at me with the fiercest expression I've ever seen her have, and I realize she might not actually want the same things I do. This game we're playing, the cat and mouse type game where we're vying for each other's hearts, but never admitting to it, I may have imagined it. I may have read more into it than necessary. I might be wrong. I take another deep breath, and I take another risk, on the off chance I'm not wrong.

"So, Max, what I'm saying is that this competition between us is so completely us. We like each other, but because of what admitting feelings has meant in the past, we're both too afraid to admit it. We both feel like admitting these feelings is like admitting defeat. It's crazy, what we do to ourselves. Like, me? I watch you every time you fly, because you look so happy, just coasting there? You look like you're exactly where you belong, up in the air, so serene. When I watch you, I feel like we're part of the same person, I feel like I can see everything you don't say during the rest of the time written on your face. The things you worry about, the things you love, the things you hate, they're all printed, on your face, and I can't get enough of you. You're like this beautiful painting, from one angle you're this tough, no-nonsense, no bull shit, I don't have time for you Max. And then, when you fly, you're this beautiful, care-free amazing person, who also has more to worry about than anyone, anywhere should ever have to worry about, least of all you; because you've never done a single thing wrong. You've never been selfish, or completely ignored anyone's feelings. But, this perfection is only one side of you, the side that leaves me in complete awe. There's another side of you though, the side of you that makes me so mad it hurts a little bit. Usually it's because you won't surrender. You can never just say "I love you," but neither do I, and I only realized recently that that was part of the problem." I pause to take a breath. "So, Max, what I'm trying to say is that I love you, not because you're perfect, but because you're you, you're my pig-headed, self-less, intelligent, senseless, amazing bird-kid and I don't think I could love you any more if I tried." She's looking at me with her big, brown eyes again. But I keep talking before she can speak, because this is the ending to a speech. The ending I've practiced in the mirror since Jeb was still taking care of us. "There. I said it. I love you Maximum Ride. The game is over. I'm surrendering willingly, because I've finally realized that winning doesn't matter, as long as I have you." She looks up at me, dumbfounded for another moment, before she parts those perfect lips again.

"Fang, do you really love me?"

"Did you not listen to _anything_ I just said?"

"No, I did!" She assures me. "Part of the whole paranoid-bird-kid-thing, have to make sure. " She exhales. "So, you love me? You love all my stupid imperfections?" She exhales again. I'm giving her time, because I've said a lot, and I doubt she's been practicing her response in the mirror for three years. "I hate the way you sneak up on me, all silent like you are." Okay, change of course? That's not good. "I hate how you just know things, like when I'm upset, and the rest of the flock just sees Max? You see that I'm crushed. I absolutely loathe how every time I miscalculate something, you've known all along how to do it right. I hate that you would probably be a better flock leader than I am." She's sort of been just looking down, but now her eyes life to meet mine. "But I love how even though you know it too, you never say it. I love how when you smile, it's real, because you keep everything so bottled up, and everyone at arm's length, so when you smile it lights up everything around you. I love how your hair falls into your eyes in a way that nobody, anywhere else could pull off so perfectly. I love how you're my other half. On anything important we've always agreed. I love that even though you're older than Angel and Gazzy you treat them like equals. And I guess in the back of my mind I've always sort of loved that since I'm like Angel's mom, you've always been like her dad. I love that look you get on your face, when she's upset, and she sits in your lap, and you rock her back into being calm. I love how you smile just a little and your eyes spark, and everything about you looks happy. It makes me happy. You make me happy. Even your blog is amazing. It's poetry. You're pure poetry. Like what you said to those erasers? They're fridges with wings, and we're freaking ballet dancers? That's true, about everyone else in the world, and then there's you. It's like everyone looks wrong doing everything they're doing, like the erasers trying to fly. And then there you are, dancing your beautiful bird-kid-only-one-for-me ballet, and my heart skips a couple of beats every time you move. And, I've never told you, but every time you unfurl your wings, my breath catches in my throat, because, you're so beautiful. When you fly it's like there's nothing bothering you, even though I know there is. And I love when we fight. I love how you get really, really close to me, to try to prove a point. And your cheeks get flushed. And you're so passionate, and it reminds me that there's more to you than the dark-dangerous-bird-kid that everyone else sees. And I love that I'm one of the only ones who sees any other part of you. And, if you haven't figured it out yet, I love you. I always have." I stop her at that, pulling her to my chest and murmuring "I love you" into her hair. Then, as if it was suddenly important I asked her:

"Hey, Max? Before I woke you up, you were dreaming, whispering my name. What was that about?" She blushes. God she's beautiful.

"I dreamed about the day on the beach, when you got hurt, and I kissed you? It was just that, except this time, instead of looking surprised you smiled, and said my name over and over again. I was saying yours out loud? Weird. I wasn't. In my dream." I smile at her, one she apparently loves so much, and I leaned up to kiss her lightly, just a peck really. She sighs and lays down with her back almost all of the way over my chest, she smiles up at me.

"Let's go to sleep now, Fang." I start shifting out from under her so I can go back to my own room.

"Sure, Max, I'll see you first thing in the morning." She's shaking her head.

"Stay? Please?" Her eyes are that warm melting chocolate color again.

"Yeah, I'll stay," I say, as Max curls back into my chest, I can feel her heart beating, it feels so right.


End file.
